A Thousand Ways to Say
by Liete
Summary: -US/UK- 'Now, instead of working on his own inability to voice his love for America, he was planning on making America speak more, in various languages.'


**A Thousand Ways to Say...  
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**By: Liete**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or any of the characters portrayed.**

**A/N: Sequel to "Change the World!"**

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He was doing it again.

There was really no reason for America to not be completely aware that he wasn't just changing his accent like he was wont to do in places like Tennessee or Boston, but speaking a completely different language altogether. How could he not hear how the words and pronunciations were almost nothing like English?

There was also no reason for the word "grazie" to sound so ridiculously sexy. Really. It was Italian, and Italy was one of the last on England's list of nations he found sexy, but coming from America, who obliviously slipped in the language with ease and a natural grace that couldn't be faked, it was making him very uncomfortable. England noted the way America's lips formed around the word, speaking with the right tone, inflection and pronunciation, and his own mouth went dry.

America turned to him and tilted his head in confusion at the sight of his likely glazed expression. "Something wrong, England?"

England shook his head, noting that the little Italian woman America had been speaking with had left, and America was completely unaware of what he had just been doing, in more ways than one.

"You were speaking Italian," England choked out thickly.

"Nah…I guess it might sound like a foreign language, but it's just the dialect spoken around here!" America chirped, ignoring England's incredulous look in favor of leaning down and kissing him.

Ever since they had gone public with their relationship, America had been doing that a lot. Kissing him, holding his hand, resting his head on his shoulder, and staring meaningfully at him openly in front of others. After the mess he'd inadvertently caused, England felt he owed it to America to comply to his need for public displays of affection. Although it had mostly been America's fault for thinking he had to change to make England happy and proud to be with him in the first place. America was an idiot, but that was part of why England was so hopelessly in love with him.

There had still been little changes that had taken place; England especially liked when Hollywood apparently got a hold on America and he was a ridiculously romantic git who made him feel more amazing than he thought was possible. That he would sometimes eat his food without spitting it out right away and making some nasty comment was also a plus.

England was now fancying the notion that it would be nice for another change in the form of America owning up to his multilinguistic abilities, because even if he spoke French, he had the feeling it would make their relationship that much more amazing.

"Never mind, you git. I thought you were buying us lunch?" England grumbled and managed to not look _too_ irritated for America's benefit when the younger nation beamed at him and grabbed his hand.

---

The problem with being nations was that they were often too busy to make excuses to see each other, and the problem with being an ocean apart was that they couldn't just meet up after their work was done for the day. But, as they say, absence makes the heart grow fonder, so at least their reunions were never boring and always made up for the lack of contact.

That time, though, England was on a mission as he shoved America through the hotel room door, kissing him desperately while America tugged at his sweater vest.

"Ti voglio bene da morire," England gasped against America's lips, hoping that by speaking the language, America would be prompted into speaking it himself. He couldn't get the image and sound of America speaking Italian to that woman on Arthur Avenue, and he wanted to hear more now that they were alone. _Seduce me with Italian. Oh god, seduce me with Italian. _

America pulled away, dark eyes focusing slightly in confusion, and managed to say, "what? I didn't understand a word of what you said."

England growled, not about to let the mood die because America was an idiot, and effectively shut him up by shoving him onto the bed and crawling on top of him.

---

"So what the hell were you saying earlier?" America asked after they had calmed down and cleaned up, and they were now laying comfortably in each others' arms.

England blushed slightly and mumbled against America's chest, "it was Italian." _I love you so much I could die._ But he wasn't about to say that out loud if America didn't understand it the first time.

America's eyes widened and he pushed England back so he could hold him at arm's length. "What?! Are you with Italy now? Did you really get sick of me, after all?"

England swatted at America's arms in irritation and went back to snuggling at his side. "You git. Didn't you learn _anything _after your personality change debacle? I want you, only you, and I'm not about to get sick of you."

Although he couldn't see it, England just knew that America was pouting as he said, "really?"

"Really," England huffed and kissed America's collarbone. "Now belt up and let me enjoy being close to you."

America was still unsure of their relationship, England realized, and he felt a pang of guilt at wanting America to change a part of himself just because he thought it would be sexy for America to seduce him with various languages. Especially after he insisted that America _didn't_ need to change.

But then, England thought, America recognizing his abilities to speak so many languages could only help him in improving relations with other nations, so it wasn't as if his motives were entirely selfish. He just couldn't out and out say that that was what he was doing, that was all. He'd just have to keep it on the down low what he was planning.

He'd have to ask for a favor from Japan, but if America could sneak around changing himself, then England could sneak around to prove to America that he was multilingual.

---

England thought it quite laughable that America felt he was the inadequate one in their relationship, when for all intents and purposes it could be the other way around entirely. England didn't wear his heart on his sleeve like America did, he couldn't casually show affection or love without blushing or acting grumpy as well. It was a wonder that America even felt they went well together.

It had been America who had made the first move. England would never forget the day that America had stopped him in the hallway after one of their meetings, red faced and stuttering, and poured his heart out without inhibitions. Since then he'd been given no reason to doubt that America was anything but madly in love with him. Meanwhile he'd been hesitant to voice his newfound happiness and had driven America to believe that he was embarrassed to be with him.

Now, instead of working on his own inability to voice his love for America, he was planning on making America speak more, in various languages.

Of course, England reminded himself stubbornly, it was helping him, too. America's enthusiasm and conviction were infectious, and an America _knowingly_ speaking foreign languages with ease and comfort would give him confidence as well.

"I love you so much I could die," England repeated softly to America's sleeping form, wondering faintly what his response would be if he were awake to hear it, how he would react to such a thing. Would it make him happy? Would the deliriously happy smile he'd had on his face when England had accepted his confession and reciprocated his feelings return?

"There's no reason for you to change when _I'm_ the one who can't keep up with _you_," he murmured as he cuddled close to his sleeping lover.

---

Japan was well acquainted with how to film someone in secret, England knew. In fact, he never would have known that Japan was capable of such a thing if he hadn't inadvertently stumbled across him filming Sweden and Finland one day. There had been an odd sparkle in his eye, and he had been mumbling something about "Hungary-san" while he held his camera at an expert angle. He hadn't asked what was going on, just went on his way without announcing his presence to the nation hiding behind some ornamental shrubbery, not thinking anything of it at the time.

"Ah, England-san. To what do I owe the pleasure?" Japan asked pleasantly as he opened his hotel room door to find England standing in the hallway.

"Good afternoon, Japan. Since I know you're an expert at filming people in secret, I was wondering if perhaps you'd assist me with a project of my own."

Japan blanched and he braced the door. "I...I'm afraid I have no idea what you're talking about, England-san."

Japan averted his gaze and fidgeted with his shirt sleeve while England cleared his throat. Well, that was awkward. Apparently he really wasn't supposed to know what Japan was up to at times.

"But," Japan started again a bit weakly, "if you need to borrow some equipment, I _do_ have a camera with me. To record our meetings, of course!"

"Of...of course," England laughed weakly in agreement. "If it's not too much trouble, I'd appreciate it, Japan. I want to help America with something, and I need a video camera to do so."

"Then please come in and I'll show you how to use it, England-san," Japan said calmly, his composure apparently regained, as he stepped aside to let England into his hotel didn't catch movement out of the corner of his eye as he entered the room, but if he had he would have seen America knotting his eyebrows in confusion and perhaps a bit of worry.

---

England made sure to check twice that France wasn't following him, even if France had seemed rather distracted with molesting the oblivious Spain, one could never be too careful when there were perverts with fast fingers about. Especially when one was following their lover and finding the sight and sound of that lover speaking French painfully arousing.

Because that was the predicament that England found himself in, and he found himself hating that the United Nations headquarters was in New York City with its assortment of cultures and languages that included French. French, the very language that he'd despised for centuries, the sound of which made him cringe whenever it was delivered from France. But it was America, speaking it so fluidly without realizing it, his idiotic, but wonderful beloved who could apparently make any language sound sexy. America was simply asking the man how his day was going and ordering himself some lunch, but England was imagining him saying all those vulgar things that France would sometimes whisper in his ear back when he was still just pining for America and had let his loneliness get the best of him one time that led France to believe it would be a regular occurrence, only instead of an elbow to the gut and an infuriated "no" he would throw his head back and yell "yes, yes, _YES!_"

England's knees buckled and he clamped his hand over his mouth before the pleasured gasp could escape his lips, lest America hear him and realize he was being followed. He peeked through the bushes he was hiding in and let out a sigh of relief when America continued blithely chatting with the street vendor, not noticing England at all.

He took out the camera he'd borrowed from Japan and fumbled with the device. Technology had never been his strong point, he usually left that to America, but Japan's demonstration on how to use the camera had been straightforward enough, so that even he felt comfortable aiming the camera at America and hitting the record button. He didn't pay attention to the camera itself, preferring to watch the real thing and stare at America's lips forming around words. England's mouth fell open slightly as he continued to observe America's conversation with one of his citizens.

The moment America said "merci beaucoup" and waved goodbye to the man, England's breath hitched and he had to remind himself that he couldn't just run over and throw himself at America, stupid sexy multilingual abilities or not. He had gotten what he was after, though, he remembered triumphantly and he smirked as he clutched the camera protectively to himself. He'd grab himself a quick bite to eat and hope the afternoon meeting would go swiftly.

---

Although normally England would listen attentively during meetings, that afternoon he was too preoccupied with wanting to view the contents of the video he'd recorded to really care about what was being discussed. The second the meeting was adjourned, England flew out of his seat and acknowledged America's hopeful smile with a curt nod and an "I'll talk to you later" before he rushed excitedly to Japan's side. Japan looked a bit flustered when England asked him if they could watch his movie now and insisted that they return to the hotel first.

England couldn't mask his impatience at the leisurely pace Japan took in walking back to the hotel, and then how long it seemed to take him to connect the camcorder to his laptop and bring up the correct program. Japan's brow furrowed as he brought up the contents of England's recordings and he clicked and typed furiously, then stared at the camera with his eyes widening in understanding.

"What? What's wrong?" England asked anxiously.

Japan chuckled into his hand and then lifted the camera to show it to England. "Did you remember to remove the lens cap first, England-san?"

England blanched as his mouth fell open. "I…I didn't realize."

"I'm afraid this video won't help you at all with your mission," Japan responded, biting his lip to suppress any further laughter as he held out the camera. "You are welcome to use it again, if you wish."

England scowled, more at himself than anything, and took the camcorder with a nod. "Yes, and I appreciate it, Japan." He stood and headed for the door. "Then, I'll see you tomorrow, Japan."

"Until tomorrow, England-san. Have a pleasant evening."

England returned to his own hotel room, only to spend a bit of time making sure he knew _exactly_ how to work the camera, so there would be no more repeats of the day's fiasco. Luckily he still had a few more days before the conference ended and he'd have to return the camera to Japan, because although he'd planned a few more days in the country to spend on pleasure rather than business, the others would have to return home. Once he was satisfied that he had gotten it right, he carefully packed the camera away, picked out a fresh suit for the next day and made sure he had the right cardkeys before he made his way to America's room.

England was rather surprised when he opened the door and it was completely dark. He frowned and flickered on the lights, where he was greeted by the sight of a fast asleep America. That wasn't like America to go to sleep when he knew he'd be meeting up with England later, and England couldn't help a frustrated groan. Despite how annoyed he was that he'd failed to capture America speaking a foreign language on video, he was still feeling rather randy and had been looking forward to America helping him relieve _that_ particular frustration, even if there wouldn't be any sweet nothings in French or Italian or whatever whispered in his ear.

Regardless, England pulled off his jacket and kicked off his shoes, turning off the light again, before he crawled into bed behind America and wrapped his arms around the sleeping nation. He tucked his head against America's, happy to at least be _near_ him, and closed his eyes. There were still a few days left, he thought as he drifted off to sleep.

---

England was rather pleased to find, when he awoke the next morning, that during the night America had apparently rolled over to pull England into his arms and otherwise entangle their limbs. A small smile spread across his face as he reached out to tenderly cup America's face in his hands. He ran his thumb over his cheeks, watching him sleep and marveling at how defenseless he looked, and then peeked over America's shoulder at the clock. It was still a bit early, but England was feeling selfish, especially since he'd missed out on quality time with America the night before. He leaned forward and started kissing America over and over, hoping the gesture would rouse the sleeping nation. England's eyes softened when America stirred and groaned.

"Good morning," England said gently when blue eyes focused on him.

America blinked at him, then his eyes widened and he abruptly shot straight up in bed. "England?!"

England raised an eyebrow and gingerly sat up as well. "Of course, were you expecting someone else?" he asked in a teasing tone and cupped America's face again for a proper kiss.

He intended for it to be a proper kiss, at least, but America didn't reciprocate the gesture at all and just furrowed his brows. "Well, no, _I_ wasn't expecting someone else…"

England also furrowed his brows, in irritation, and kissed America again. And again. Until America tentatively started kissing back.

"I love you," America said with an intense, almost pleading look on his face when he finally broke away from England.

"And I want you so badly right now I could scream," England replied thickly and fingered at the collar of America's pyjamas.

There was the briefest flicker of disappointment in America's eyes, but it was quickly gone and replaced with a dark, predatory look and a smirk. America lowered England back down to the bed and said with a chuckle, "I'm counting on it."

---

England felt guilty turning down America's lunch invitation, but he couldn't very well record America in secret if America's attention was on him at all times. Knowing America, actually, if he spotted the camera, he'd want to make a dreadful movie and would ruin England's plans altogether. Or America would ask him to pick the food they ate, and he didn't want to explain why he'd want to go to America's old neighborhoods where they still spoke "local dialects" that were actually foreign languages.

So it was back to tailing America in secret.

That day America had opted to head to a Ukrainian neighborhood, and it was with a great deal of excitement that England fished out the camcorder (taking great care to remove the lens cap that time) and got ready to record America conversing with one of his citizens in the language. If _that_ didn't convince America that he was multilingual, then nothing would.

While he admitted that he didn't understand a lot of what was being said, it still sounded amazing. That time, though, England wouldn't let himself get distracted by how much it turned him on to hear foreign languages coming from America, and focused solely on making damn sure he captured it all on video. He watched the little screen on the camcorder intently, unable to help a fond look as he watched America chat cheerfully with a group of people. For all the internal discord, America was terribly fond of all of his people, he knew, and liked to wander casually among them and just talk. Like he was doing now.

Or was doing. England realized that in the brief time he'd been lost in his reverie, America had left. England swore under his breath and quickly scanned the street for a sign of a familiar bomber jacket or perhaps that wild tuft of hair America claimed was Nantucket, but there was no sign of his clueless lover anywhere. He had followed America to that neighborhood and had no idea how to get back, and to top it off, he didn't have any money on his person.

Well, at least he'd gotten the video he was after.

---

England received quite the lecture from Germany when he ran back in nearly an hour late, looking disheveled and harried, but he'd had a jolly old time asking for directions back, receiving multiple _wrong _directions, and getting an impromptu tour of Manhattan he hadn't wanted. He ignored the questioning look America was giving him and sat in his chair with his chin held high. He was a gentleman, damn it, and so he wasn't going to explain _why_ he was late, just that he was.

The meeting continued without incident, but then Germany insisted on briefing England on what he'd missed during his absence, and then England was having trouble hiding his impatience. He needed to see Japan about the video, so he could show America, so his life and America's would be better for it.

He practically ran out of the room when Germany finally deemed fit to release him, but was quickly tugged into a hug from behind the second he was through the door.

"Wanna get some dinner?" America asked and rested his chin on England's shoulder.

England turned around in the embrace and kissed America, half wanting to just take him up on the offer at that moment, but it likely wouldn't take long to confer with Japan. So he pulled away and licked his lips. "Can it wait a bit? I have something I need to do first."

America was very obviously disappointed, but he just nodded and shrugged. "All right. You know which room is mine, sooo…"

England gave America one last quick peck on the lips before he brushed past and called behind him, "I won't be long, I promise."

As expected, Japan was very prompt in bringing up the contents of the camcorder on his laptop, but once again his brow furrowed as he watched the video.

"I'm afraid we have another problem, England-san," Japan sighed with a rueful smile as he turned the laptop towards England.

"Oh, bloody hell, what now?" England asked in exasperation.

"Listen to this," Japan said and started the video up again.

The video played without a hitch, however, England noted that it was impossible to hear what America was saying, as there was too much background noise to decipher which voice was which. England clenched his jaw in an effort not to rant and curse in frustration.

"Would you like to borrow the camera again, England-san?" Japan asked sympathetically.

"If it's not too much trouble, thank you," England responded as he rubbed his temples. This was shaping up to be more trouble than it was worth, and he was rapidly running out of time.

But when he went to meet up with America and was treated to an Italian dinner where America conversed in the server's native tongue, England braced himself with new resolve for the following day when he'd try again.


End file.
